


The Fateful Reunion

by galaxyartist4



Series: Just a Future [1]
Category: Treasure Planet (2002)
Genre: Drinking, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Gen, Happy Ending, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-12
Updated: 2015-07-12
Packaged: 2018-04-08 23:30:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4324980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galaxyartist4/pseuds/galaxyartist4
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim and Silver meet again post-movie. Fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fateful Reunion

**Author's Note:**

> There are so many fics of the meeting I thought I would just add my own. Enjoy!

_Jim backed against the barrel of purps he had hidden in after chasing Morph, shaking in terror. A large, hulking form loomed over him, red eye gleaming malevolently in the darkness._

_"Aye, Jimbo, it’s true. I never cared a lick about ya. It was just ta keep ya off our trail.” The voice was low and soft, echoing from every corner of the shadowed room._

_"Yer an annoying little whelp, pickin’ fights with me crew, causin’ trouble where ever ya go…” the words cut Jim like a knife and he wanted to run, but he couldn’t move. A large hand with claw-tipped fingers grabbed his shirt and hoisted him into the air. He rose higher and higher, through the galley’s roof and up into space, and the figure holding him rose too. The face before him was unrecognizably twisted with hatred, and growing larger every second. The robotic eye swiveled uncontrollably, flower-like steel petals opening and snapping shut over and over._

_“Aye lad,” the voice hissed, still echoing. The figure’s mouth didn’t move with the words, it just stayed fixed in a horrible grimace. “I wish Scroop had thrown ya overboard instead of Mr. Arrow, at least HE was a mite useful.” The robotic eye turned into a metal shark protruding from the eye socket, still snapping. “I shoulda dropped ya when I had th’ chance, and taken th’ treasure for me own!” the voice whispered venomously as the shark stretched, a comical but terrible imitation of Billy Bones’ neck. The metal mouth snapped closer and closer…_

 

Jim woke with a muffled cry, bolting up in his bed. He dashed the tears from his eyes, growling angrily. He was too old to be crying like a baby over a silly nightmare. Morph bubbled anxiously, circling around his head.

 “It’s okay Morph; it was just a bad dream.” Morph nuzzled against his cheek, still worried, then turned into a small mirror and dropped into his lap. Jim picked the little object up and looked at himself. He looked exhausted, with purple bags under his eyes. Smiling slightly, he tickled the mirror until it turned into a giggling Morph.

“C’mon Morph, let’s go for a surf.” He got out of bed, Morph still circling excitedly, and started to get dressed. Pulling on a loose shirt and pants, he glanced out the window and saw that the sun had risen halfway above the horizon. “If we hurry we can get out before- Augh!” Morph had turned into a puffer fish and blown water into his ear. Jim cursed, pulled on his other boot, grabbed his belt and raced after the little creature. 

He stopped outside the Inn, panting and laughing, and ran his hands over his hair, wishing, not for the first time, that he still had a braid to tug on.

“Squit, squit, squit!” Morph chanted, bubbling and chuckling.

“Yes you are,” Jim grinned, swatting gently at the pink blob who chittered and turned into a tiny solar surfer.

“Hm…” Jim walked to the small shed at the back of the inn and grabbed his most recent solar surfer. He lovingly rubbed a streak of oil off its shiny metal, and grinned at his distorted reflection. He had built the craft a few months ago, and had just recently finished working out its kinks and issues. Picking it up and slinging it under his arm, he whistled to Morph, who appeared a moment later, burbling like the sink. 

“Wanna try something new?” he asked the blob. 

“New, new!” Was its response. Jim pulled a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket and unfolded it, showing the picture to Morph. 

“They’re called goggles,” he said softly as the creature cooed with interest. “I think they’re supposed to be like an old fashioned version of those shields that people use to cover their eyes. Wanna try?” he grinned at Morph. The pink blob chortled and turned into a pair of old-looking goggles. Jim slipped them over his eyes and blinked as the lenses cleared. He felt them constrict slightly, and Morph giggled in his ear.

 “Alright, little buddy, hold on.” Jim laughed. He ran to the end of the dock and set the board gently on the ground. Then he stepped on, and stamped onto the starting pedal. Instantly, the board whirred to life and the sail slid out. Jim grabbed the holding bar and kicked off the ground. The board shot forward and Jim whooped. Morph babbled in his ear with excitement.

He was free. The last term of his fifth year at the Interstellar Academy had ended two weeks ago, and he still had another three months until the next term started. The wind whipped his face, but Morph kept the wind from his eyes, leaving his vision clear. The air was warm, the currents were smooth, and the sun was almost completely above the horizon. 

Jim dove, reveling in the rush of falling. Pulling out of the dive, he rose again, looking for a challenge. He saw one in the form of many rocky spires sprouting from the ground in a canyon below him, and he dove again, weaving in and out and around the spires, laughing and shouting wildly. A few daring birds flew with him, bright flashes of color in the edges of Jim’s vision. Eventually he reached a point where the canyon split into two, and slowing down, he landed on the point. He stomped on the pedal again, and the board shut off. Morph slid off his head and onto his shoulder, giggling and panting. 

“Whew.” Jim sighed, sitting on the edge of the cliff. Morph mimicked him, then giggled and flew off to inspect the area. Jim reached into his pocket and felt an object there that he had forgotten about. He pulled it out and ran his fingers along its curves, smiling and sadly wiping away a single large, smudged fingerprint. 

 

_“Boyo, I want ya ta have somethin’.” Silver smiled tearily and pulled a pouch out of his pocket. He handed the pouch to Jim, who opened it._

_“Your pipe?” Jim asked, confused. Silver nodded, wiping his normal eye as the other shone a soft, warm gold._

_"I can always get me a new un. And I wanted ya ta have somethin’ to remind ya of me.” Then he shook his finger at Jim, trying and failing to look stern. “But don’t ya go smokin’ it before yer old enough.” He smiled, teary again and opened his arms for a hug. Jim ran forward and hugged him with all his might, digging his fingers into the slightly smoke-scented jacket._

_“I’ll miss you…” Jim whispered. Silver gave a watery chuckle. “I’ll miss ya too, lad. I’ll miss ya too.”_

Jim smiled again, drawn out of his thoughts by Morph licking his face.

“I was just thinking, Morph.” Morph twined through his fingers, purring, and settled on top of Jim’s head before flying off again. Jim drew out a small pouch from his pocket, pouring some of the mixture inside into the pipe, making a mental note to go to town and ask an herb seller to help him identify the mix and get some more. He tamped it down and drew a match from the pouch. Flicking it across a rough patch on the side of his solar surfer, he lit the pipe and lifted it to his lips. He inhaled and sighed as the smell of the unique mixture filtered through his senses. Closing his eyes, he remembered sitting in the shrouds of the  _R.L.S. Legacy_ , sunk deep into guilt and depression. Silver had leaned on the ship’s railing, smoking the same pipe Jim now held. 

Morph took this moment to reappear, covered in dust. He shook himself and flew through the smoke in the air. He landed on Jim’s knee turning into a replica of the pipe in Jim’s hands, then into a miniature Silver.

“Jimbo!” he chuckled, then turned back into a pink blob. Jim patted Morph’s head absently, still blowing smoke into the air. He sighed once more, then stood. The sun had risen fully into the sky, and Jim was hungry.

“Food, then town.” He told Morph, who turned into a flamboyant hat. Jim laughed and put the hat on his head, tickling the brim. It squeaked and shifted into the goggles. Jim kicked his board into gear and shot off the cliff, headed back to the Benbow Inn. 

“Jim, where have you been?!” Sarah called when Jim entered the Inn. 

“I was out for a surf.” Jim grinned as he grabbed a plate of food and started to shovel it down. Morph circled Jim’s head once and flew off to the kitchens. Sarah breezed past him, but backtracked to sniff his hair.

“James Hawkins, have you been smoking again?” she put her hands on her hips, looking reproachful. Jim looked at her, mouth full of food.

“I’m old enough!” he exclaimed through the mouthful. 

“Oh, Jim.” She sighed mournfully, returning to her bustling. “You know it’s bad for you.”

“I know!” Jim grumbled, still chewing.

“Well, I suppose I can’t stop you…” she said, looking irritable. “But if I catch you doing it in this building…” she muttered under her breath. Jim finished his food, jumped to his feet and planted a kiss on her cheek.

“Stop worrying, mom! I'm not that stupid.” He grinned again, and dropped his plate off in the kitchen. Whistling to Morph, he grabbed his coin pouch and left the Inn, humming cheerfully. As he walked, the blob flitted around his head, chirping like a bird. A ways down the road he hopped onto the back of a covered carriage going towards the town. 

It was a port town, bustling and loud. There were creatures of all different species selling their wares to the passerby. Jim jumped off the carriage, flipped the surprised driver a coin, and wandered into the market. He never tired of the sights there. Brightly colored fruits nearly spilled from barrels in front of stalls. Colored cloth hung from stands, floating in the breeze. Jewelry of all shapes and sizes glittered from inside cases. Polka dotted and striped vegetables sat in baskets, illuminated by the sun.             

Morph, tired from the surfing and carriage hopping, settled himself around Jim’s throat in the form of a corded necklace as Jim looked through a barrel of purps. He selected one and rolled a coin across the counter to the vendor. Purple juice dripped down his chin as he bit into the fruit. Two eyes popped open on the pendant and watched the juice, catching the drip on a pink tongue.

“That tickles.” Jim told Morph. Morph giggled. Jim spent the afternoon in the market, going from stall to stall. He paused to watch a vendor wind an old fashioned watch, and sniffed the air. He smelled a tell-tale whiff of burning herbs and turned to follow the scent. It led him to a small, brightly colored tent in the middle of the market. He pulled the curtain aside and stepped in. Strong smells assailed his nose as the curtain dropped behind him.

“Welcome. Ah, Jim.” A thin, dark gray Felinoid sat behind a small counter, running his fingers over a piece of paper. He looked up and smiled at Jim, who knew him from previous business.

“Hey, Khano.” He stepped up to the counter, eyes watering slightly from the smells. 

“Did Sarah send you on herb business again today?” the Felinoid asked, green slit pupiled eyes returning to his list.

“No,” Jim said, glancing at the paper too. “This time I’m looking for something.” He pulled the small pouch out of his pocket and held it out to the merchant, who set down his paper and took it gently between two clawed fingertips.

“Could you help me figure out what’s in this mixture?” Jim asked apprehensively. The Felinoid reached into the pouch and pulled out two small pinches of the mix, dropping one deftly into a small stone bowl. The other he dropped into a small vial. He handed the pouch back to Jim and picked up the bowl, sniffing it carefully. His eyes narrowed and he scribbled something on the corner of his paper. Then he struck a match and lit the mix, watching intently as the smoke rose in a coil. He sniffed again, and his eyes sparkled. Mumbling to himself, he scribbled more on his paper, then set down his pen.

“Yes, this is a wonderful mix.” He told Jim. “I believe I might be able to make some more for you right now.” 

“What’s in it?” Jim asked, curious. The Felinoid stood and started looking over the jars on the shelf behind the counter.

“It’s an interesting blend of  _pedicularis groenlandica, pedicularis racemosa, scutellaria lateriflora, nicotiana tabacum_. Commonly known as elephant's head, parrot’s beak, skullcap, and oriental tobacco.” The Felinoid paused, sniffing the ashes of the mixture. “But there is something I can't quite place…” he offered the bowl to Jim. Jim sniffed carefully.

“It smells almost like… burnt rum?” Khano’s eyes widened and he grinned, flashing his fangs.

“That’s what it is! Now I wonder how it was added to the blend…” he started muttering to himself again, looking through his jars. Jim shifted from one foot to the other for a minute or so, then the Felinoid handed him a sachet of herbs.

“This should be almost identical to the current mixture, with just a tiny added pinch of rum soaked catnip.” He grinned, baring his fangs again. “If you want, come back in a few days and I can perfectly replicate the original. I will just have to soak some of these herbs in rum and dry them. The question is which ones…” he paused, seemingly lost in thought again, sniffing the vial. Jim took the sachet and put it in his pocket. 

“These herbs are particularly popular with Ursids…” Khano said to himself, and Jim stiffened.

“How much?” he asked. The Felinoid started slightly, grabbed a jar behind him and looked at the label. He named his price, Jim handed him some coins, thanked him, and left. He meandered towards the edge of the market, fiddling with the pipe in his pocket.

 

* * *

 

 

A few days later, Jim woke from the same nightmare, sweating and shaking. The sun had already risen, and his room was lit with its golden glow. Morph wasn’t in the room, so Jim assumed that he was downstairs in the kitchen. He got dressed, thinking about the dream. He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn’t notice his mother standing in the doorway.

“Jim! I thought you told me that you would work a shift in the kitchen today! And I need you to run to town and get me some more spices. Here, I have a list…” she rummaged in her apron pocket as Jim stared blearily out of the window. Pulling a piece of paper out of her pocket she handed it to Jim and went back down the stairs. He put on his boots, and, forgetting his belt, he followed his mother.

Half an hour later he was working in the kitchens, cracking jokes with the staff. Morph fetched his belt so his pants would stop falling off, much to the chagrin of the serving maids. He bused tables and washed dishes until well after lunch.

 Wiping his hands on his pants, he grabbed his coin pouch and left the Inn to go to town. Morph was riding in his shirt pocket, making happy cooing noises. Jim hopped the same carriage, and when he got to the marketplace, he sniffed the air. Wandering towards the middle of the market, he caught the smell he was looking for.

“Jim!” Khano exclaimed as soon as the curtain opened. “I have your mixture! Practically identical to the first, except for maybe the age of the rum.” He scratched his chin thoughtfully.

“Awesome, thanks!” Jim grinned. He pulled out the list his mother had given him and handed it to the Felinoid. Khano glanced at it and hummed. A minute later he handed Jim a small pouch, and quite a few small jars. Jim gave him a few coins and turned to leave.

“Hold on a moment, Jim.” The Felinoid blinked at him, pupils widening slightly. “I wanted to ask you who gave you that mixture. Something about it is very familiar.” Jim paused, not sure of what to say. Then he smiled in a hesitant way.

“Ever dealt with pirates before?” he asked quietly. The Felinoid’s pupils contracted. He sniffed.

“On occasion.”

“Well, that's probably why it's familiar.” The Felinoid studied him for a moment.

“Give your mother my regards.” He said, turning back to his shelves. Jim murmured his thanks and left the tent, thinking as he put the spices in his rucksack. Could Silver have gone to the same merchant, maybe years and years ago? Jim wandered toward the west side of town, passing shops and restaurants. He stopped at a bench and sat down with a sigh. Morph flew from his pocket and mimicked his sigh, then burbled anxiously, rubbing against Jim's cheek. 

“Oh Morph. I'm just tired. I keep having those blasted nightmares.” Morph turned into a miniature Scroop and wiggled his legs. Jim frowned and shook his head. 

“No, not about Scroop. These are different.” Jim tamped some of the new mixture into Silver's pipe and lit it. “These are strange and upsetting.” Sucking on the end of the pipe, Jim watched a small Canoid child pull at her mother's skirt and point into a shop window. He couldn't hear the exchange but the child wilted as the mother towed her away. He felt the fear of the nightmares slowly ebbing away. The smell of the smoke drifted around him, settling in his hair. He sat for a while, watching the shadows creep across the street, until he saw the sun touch the horizon. 

Standing, he brushed some wayward ash from his lap and looked around. Morph had vanished. 

“Morph? Morphy!” Jim called. He heard a sleepy chirp from inside his rucksack. 

“You better not be getting into those spices.” Jim told him. Morph squeezed out of the pack and circled Jim's head, then he sneezed, and landed on Jim's outstretched hand. 

“Tired, little guy?” Jim asked. Morph yawned minutely. Jim took that as a yes and slipped the creature into his shirt pocket. 

Jim decided that he was feeling bored, so as the sun sank lower into the horizon, he wandered towards a place that he knew served good drinks. He ambled along slowly, still thinking and tasting the smoke on his tongue, and it took him a minute or two to realize that he had passed the place. He turned around, feeling sheepish, and stomped back up the walkway. As he drew closer, he saw light coming from the windows and heard loud voices. Grinning slightly, he quickened his pace, but when he was feet from the door, it swung open. 

A large figure strolled out, limping slightly. Jim took an involuntary step back, suddenly feeling as if the earth had dropped out beneath him. Dusk blurred the figure's face, but there was no mistaking that glowing golden eye, or the whirring and clicking sound of gears. Jim gulped, trying to make a sound, but he couldn't. In the moment of Jim's stunned silence, Morph poked his head out of Jim's pocket, and let out a shrill squeal of delight. He shot out of his resting place like a cannon ball and zoomed in circles around the figure's head, still squeaking ecstatically. The figure put up a huge, claw-tipped hand and Morph twined around the fingers, chittering away.

“Why, Morphy! It's been so long!” The figure exclaimed, voice hinting at an Irish Brogue. Jim felt his face droop in surprise as the reality hit him. This was definitely not a hallucination, none of them ever sounded happy. 

The figure shifted its attention from the little creature now rubbing its face against the man's cheek, to Jim, standing speechless.

“I don't believe it.” The figure said, golden eye turning nearly white in surprise. “Jim, lad? Jimbo?” 

 

* * *

 

 

Jim struggled to find his missing voice box, images of a snapping metal shark clear in his mind’s eye.

“S-Silver? You're not- you're not real, are you?” 

Silver chuckled. 

“Now there's a strange way ta greet an old friend o' yours. Hows about a hug instead?” Jim paused, still trying to wrap his head around the idea that John Silver was standing only a few feet from him. Resisting the crazed impulse to turn and run, he swayed slightly, then stepped forward and hugged the bear-like man with all the strength his shocked arms could muster, tears stinging his eyes. The familiar scent of salt, smoke, rum, spices and warmth flooded his into brain as Silver engulfed him in rib-cracking return. They separated, and Jim looked up into the face that haunted his dreams and nightmares alike. Silver was beaming soppily from ear to ear, looking a bit foolish. 

“I smell that pipe smoke on ya, lad. You like it?” Jim nodded, still struck dumb. Silver looked around curiously. 

“Where ye headed to? It's gettin' a bit late.”

“I was actually coming here.” Jim smiled ruefully, eyes not leaving the friendly face before him. The cyborg's eyebrows furrowed somewhat.

“Ain't you a bit too young ta be drinkin’?” He asked suspiciously. Jim laughed. 

“It's been a while, hasn't it? I turned 22 last November.” Silver looked surprised. 

“Aye, I guess it has been. Yer a man now, Jimbo. Look, ye have grown taller, too.” Silver ruffled Jim’s hair with his organic hand, eyes shining. 

“Well, I was just about ta leave an' go fer a walk, but I t’ink I’d rather be treatin’ ya to a pint.” He laughed merrily and slung his arm around Jim’s shoulders, steering him into the pub. 

Noise rose around them as soon as they walked through the door. The place was nearly full; rowdy creatures of all shapes and sizes sat around old wooden tables, drinking, sharing stories, and talking about the latest news. Jim and Silver sat down at the bar, and Silver ordered and paid for two pints. He passed one to Jim, who took a swallow, then set the mug down and stared at Silver. He noticed that the cyborg had more rings through his ear, and a tiny braid in his hair.

“But… Silver, aren’t you a wanted man? Why are you here?” Silver gulped down a mouthful of his drink and chuckled, the liquid in his cup sloshing.

“I ain't wanted no more, lad. I had me some real adventurin’ after I left ya, but t’en I realized… I didn’t really wan’ ta keep up teh wild chasin’. I wanted ta give meself up, but t’at didn’t quite go as planned.” Silver grinned broadly, his mechanical arm shooting a little white flag out of the end. He waved it for a second. “It were somewhere far out in teh galaxy, them Navy types got a hold o’ me ship. Me pirate instincts kicked in and I put up a bit o’ a fight, then I remember meself and surrendered.” He grimaced. “I didn’t like t’at much.”

“Then we had one o’ them Supernovas. I did me some quick thinking, rememberin’ our experience,” he winked at Jim who smiled back. “And I managed ta save the captain’s life and the ship in da nick o’ time. When we got back to port, he put in some good words for me an’ had me do only a bit o’ time behind bars for me offences. Aye, the law has their eye on me now, but they’ve stopped the wild chasin’, and I've stopped me pillagin’ an’ plunderin’. I’ve taken to workin' as a cook wherever catches me fancy. I'm actually here lookin’ fer a place to start me own restaurant.” Silver took another gulp from his mug and looked quizzically at Jim, whose eyes were fixed nervously on Silver’s glowing cyber orb.

“Ye all right, lad?” Jim nodded slowly and turned back to his drink.

“Actually…” Jim paused, then he proceeded to tell Silver about his nightmares. Silver listened attentively, urging him to continue whenever he hesitated. When Jim was finished, he swirled around the last of his drink, downed it, and signaled the bartender for a refill. 

“Aye, those dreams gave ya a bit o' a fright, wee pup, but ya know what our dear ol' cap'n would call them night frights?” He fixed his robotic eye on Jim, who looked confused. Turning up his nose, Silver pursed his mouth in a badly done impression of the _Legacy_ 's captain, Amelia. “Tish tosh.” Jim laughed.

“And I agree wit' her. Ye'd be daft to believe any bile-spewin' versions o' me ya see in any dream o' yers. Yer mind is a crazy place, Jimbo, makin' t'ings up like that ta scare yerself into thinkin' I don't wan' ta see ya, t'at I don' care about ya.”

He placed a huge, warm hand on Jim's shoulder and squeezed gently, and Jim, pink-cheeked with embarrassed pleasure, couldn't speak. Silver looked earnestly into the young man's wide blue eyes, searching. “Ye haven't seen me face in seven years an' ya think I wouldn't be up and over the ol' ship's railin' to spend time wit' ya?”

The cyborg's voice thickened slightly and he coughed, taking his hand off Jim's shoulder and reaching for his drink. “Yer daft, Jimbo, jus' daft. Though... Maybe I really should get a wee shark for me eye.” He grinned at the faintly panicked expression on Jim’s pink face. “I was jus' kiddin’ Jimbo. Remember, I’m not’in’ if I ain’t a kidder.” Jim grinned, still flushed with happiness, and elbowed the cyborg in the gut.

“Of course I remember. How could I forget?” he laughed.

“It’s been a solid long time, boyo, and wit’ all ya been doin’, I wouldn’t have been surprised if ya had forgotten about ol’ Silver.”

“Never for a moment.” Jim answered, smiling.

“Well, I’m glad ya didn’t. And ya had me pipe, too, t’at must’ve helped.” 

Jim nodded.

“One of the merchants here helped me identify the mix you gave me and he made some more.”

“Really?” Silver looked intrigued. “I have some trouble meself rememberin’ what’s in the darn stuff.”

“Well, he’s almost always in the marketplace during the afternoon,” Jim mused, embarrassment slipping away, “I bet you could find him while you're here.” Silver nodded, and stared into his cup, apparently considering the idea. He spluttered suddenly as Morph, who had been missing since they entered the pub, shot out of the liquid and zoomed around him in tipsy circles. Jim watched, laughing as the cyborg grabbed the little creature out of the air and stuffed him into Jim's rucksack, buttoning it closed behind him. After the miniature commotion had settled, Jim glanced at Silver again.

“Have you gotten work done on your cybernetics?” He asked curiously. 

“What makes ye think that, lad?” 

“I dunno.” Jim sipped his drink. “It's been so long that there must be some new technology out there.” Silver grinned toothily, tapping the side of his head next to his cyber eye. 

“Yer right, Jimbo, I had some work done on me eye, and a bit on me arm.” The eye promptly turned a brilliant blue and scanned Jim with a beam of light. Jim started nervously and shifted in his seat.

“Ye ain't carryin' nothin' sharp 'cept teh knife in yer shoe, laddy.” Silver chuckled quietly. Jim ran his fingers absently over the edge of his boot, surprised.

“That's impressive. What else?” 

The eye turned pale green and pulsed once.

“Ye ain't got no poison on ya either.” Silver affirmed. Jim raised his eyebrows, smiling. 

“Nope, just some spices.” 

“Tha’s good. Runnin' errands for yer mom, huh?” 

“Yeah.” Jim eyed the cyborg's prosthetic arm with apprehension. “Anyway, what did you get done to your arm?” 

Silver waggled his metal fingers in a teasing way before sliding his organic hand over the metal forearm and pressing a nearly invisible button. A little compartment popped open.

“’Tis a wee survival kit. Needles 'n thread an' matches an' some other useful t'ings. Came in handy a couple o' times these past few years.” He pressed the lid down and popped open another compartment on the underside of the arm.

“An' here I got some emergency spices. Never know when you'll run out. Or when some insolent pup is gonna steal an' hide yer whole supply.” He grinned and winked at Jim again. Jim snickered, unabashed.

“I remember that, too.” They sat in silence for a few minutes, enjoying each other's quiet company.

After a while, Jim finished his drink and stood. Silver stood too, and they walked out of the pub together, stopping outside.

“How long will you be in town?” Jim asked. Silver shifted visibly, green tinting the edges of his golden eye, and didn’t meet Jim’s gaze. 

“Maybe a few days…” he said. Jim drooped a bit; he wanted to see more of Silver, but he knew the man liked to travel.

“Well then, you have to stop by the Inn tomorrow and visit us there!” Jim grinned at the prospect of Silver meeting his mother. It would be an entertaining, if not frightening, scene. “You will, right?” He asked quickly, worry creasing his forehead. Silver smiled indulgently.

“I was plannin’ ta before I met ya here, lad.” Jim laughed, hugging the big man forcefully, and was smothered in the shoulder of Silver's jacket as Silver lifted him off the ground, holding him tight. Morph squeaked in sleepy protest from inside Jim's rucksack.

“I missed you.” Jim whispered into the folds of the coat. He felt more than heard the quiet rumble of Silver’s reply.

“I missed ya too, Jimbo.” Silver grunted faintly when he set the young man down.

“Yer heavier than ya used to be.” He muttered, amused. As soon as Jim’s feet were back on the ground, he looked up at the big man again.

“See you tomorrow?” Jim couldn't keep the winded and breathlessly childish excitement out of his voice. The cyborg's eye twinkled and shone its deepest, warmest gold, a color he practically reserved for Jim.

“See ya tomorrow, lad.”

 

* * *

 

 

The first thing Jim knew the next morning was a sudden and crashing ache in his right side. Rolling over, he moaned and stared at the ceiling. It was still dark outside when he got up off the floor, complaining softly to himself. The window was open and he could hear the breeze blowing gently through. Rubbing his neck thoughtfully, Jim made a fast decision. He dressed as quickly as he could, and, leaving Morph asleep on his pillow, he snuck downstairs.

The air was chilly. His breath hung in the air like tiny, wispy clouds. Humming quietly, he got his solar surfer and walked to the farthest dock. The board whirred to life and Jim shot away into the dusky morning. Holding onto the bar, Jim checked the sun meter by his feet. It had some power in it, but it was running a bit low. He muttered angrily and started toward a far off set of cliffs. The gusts made his eyes water, and he wished he had woken Morph before he left.

A sudden beeping by his ankle told him that his backup power was about to run out. A tingle of fear ran down the back of his neck. He was still a little ways from the cliffs. Kicking the craft into high gear, Jim angled himself upwards. He rose and rose, then the sun power died and he began to fall. He yelled a mixture of fear and excitement, all traces of grogginess vanished. The cliffs raced toward him swiftly, and then with a terrible crunch, he landed feel from the edge, skidding along the rocky ground.

“Ugh, what a terrible morning,” Jim grumbled, knowing full well he should’ve waited until the sun had risen. He picked himself up and dusted off his knees. Then he checked his board. It wasn’t badly damaged, just a few deep scratches on the bottom. Sighing, he set it down gently and sat down himself, rubbing his jaw. As he did so he felt a sharp sting. Blood smeared his hand when he took it away, and he swore.

“Mom is going to have a fit.” He said to himself, lying back. He crossed his arms behind his head and closed his eyes.

Jim woke later to discover the sun was above the horizon. Standing gingerly, he positioned his board for takeoff and stepped on. Every muscle in his body was complaining as he started the board and launched off the cliff. The air had warmed while he was asleep, and the currents took him in looping circles, higher and higher into the sky. He laughed as a stray tendril of air tickled his nose. He forgot his aches in a spectacular dive.

“I FELL OUT OF MY DAMNED BED THIS MORNING!” he screamed at the top of his lungs, nearly skimming a canyon floor. His shouts echoed off the rock walls, scaring some birds into flight. He chased them for a while, then turned around and headed back to the Inn. A small skiff was parked by the furthest dock, so he landed on the second furthest. After placing his board in the back shed and promising to repair it soon, he walked guiltily into the building, expecting panicked yells. Instead he was greeted by the soft hum of guests eating a late breakfast. He looked around, unsure of what to do.

“Where’s mom?” he asked a serving maid as she passed by.

“Ms. Hawkins is speaking to someone in the parlor about business matters. Best not bother her at the moment.” She called over the guests heads. Jim frowned, then wandered upstairs to his room. Morph had disappeared, probably to the kitchen, so Jim got into the shower, leaving his dusty clothes on the floor.

Hot water ran over his shoulders and he groaned, collapsing against the shower wall. His muscles were aching again. He grabbed a bar of soap and washed all the grime off himself, humming absently. As he did so, he thought about the previous night. He wondered vaguely if it was all just a dream while he scrubbed his hair.

His jaw stung as he rubbed it tentatively, cleaning out the dirt. When he was done washing his face, he broke into a warbling song he learned from Khano. The words were not in English, and Jim knew he wasn’t singing them right, but the prospect of food had lightened his spirits and he didn’t care much about proper pronunciation.

He was wrapping a towel around his waist, singing a particularly vibrant line, when he heard a small voice just outside his room break into the refrain. He laughed, tucking the towel in firmly, and ran outside his room to scoop the small Felinoid child into his arms. She giggled wildly and tickled him with her whiskers. Lottie was his favorite of Amelia’s daughters; she out of the three had really inherited Amelia’s peppery nature.

“Mommy taught us that song.” She said, still giggling.

“Is your mom here?” Jim asked, setting the child down.

“No, she’s on a voyage. Daddy brought us.” Jim grinned and ruffled the fur around her ears as she purred and looked at him adoringly.

“Run back downstairs, I have to put some clothes on.” She turned and skipped down the stairs, continuing the song. He walked back into his room, shutting the door, and rummaged in his drawers until he could find a clean shirt and pants. He made a mental note to do some laundry next time he was bored, grabbed his belt, and followed Lottie back downstairs. Guests were already filtering into the Inn to have an early lunch. Jim effortlessly started setting tables and taking orders. He had barely started serving when his mother appeared at his side, smiling widely. He looked at her, startled by her expression.

“Oh Jim, you're back. I was beginning to wonder where you had gotten off to.” She touched his face gently. “What happened?”

Jim grimaced.

“Fell off my board.” Sarah shook her head.

“Oh well. Listen, Jim, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.” She handed the dishes he was holding to a passing maid and ushered Jim toward the room behind the counter.

 

* * *

 

 

A sudden fear struck him. It had been a while wince he had seen a flush of pleasure on his mother's face. Could she have a boyfriend? Could she be taking him to meet his new 'dad'? He scowled ferociously and stomped behind the counter and into the parlor. He looked around angrily then stopped in shock. What he saw was not a dashing gentleman looking to greet his girlfriend's son; he saw a very broad back in a black coat and a robotic arm with Morph twining around the metal fingers. The angry breath whooshed out of Jim as he collapsed onto a cushy chair.

"Silver?" he queried weakly. Silver turned and beamed.

"Jimbo!"

Sarah had followed Jim, looking surprised.

"You know each other?" she asked. Jim nodded, and Silver beamed wider.

"This 'ere lad was me cabin boy aboard the _R.L.S. Legacy_ , ma'am. Best cabin boy I ever had, even if he's a bit o' a troublemaker."

"I'm glad he was a help, but I'm also glad that he's home." Sarah smiled and sat down, motioning for Silver to do the same thing. Silver's robotic leg creaked and whirred as he sat in the chair next to Sarah's, across from Jim.

"Jim, dear, Mr. Silver has dropped in this morning to offer us a proposition." She glanced at the cyborg, who was still beaming at Jim, and continued. "He would like to start a restaurant connected to the Inn. It would take some construction and funds to build the structure and connect it to the kitchen, but then we would have the whole downstairs free to make a sitting room. He has already drawn up the plans."

Silver drew a set of blueprints from his pocket and laid them on the table between the chairs, smoothing them out carefully. Jim studied the plans briefly. They were practically flawless, showing a small building joined to the restaurant by the kitchen and a hallway, so the guests could go between the Inn and the restaurant freely.

"Mr. Silver would live in the Inn with us, and we would help in the restaurant when need be." Sarah looked at her son, worry creasing her brows. "What do you think?"

Jim looked up into his mother's hopeful expression, and then his eyes met Silver's.

"Well," he moaned as he stood up, stretching, "I'm still only gonna wash dishes three days a week." His mother jumped up and hugged him, laughing.

"Aye, lad, make t'at four and we have us a deal. Dishes can't clean t'emselves." Silver smiled and stood too. He offered Jim his robotic hand in a comical impression of himself the first time they met, grinning foolishly. Jim grinned back, and this time, he took the offered hand and shook it. Silver swept him up in a back-breaking hug, then set him down.

"Now, lad, if I'm ta be livin' wit' ya, yer gonna have ta take me on a tour o' th' land." Silver told him in mock seriousness. Jim snorted.

"I don't think you'll fit on my solar surfer."

"Aye, Jimbo, I don' t'ink I would either, but I got me skiff."

"That's your skiff outside?" Jim asked. "You parked on my favorite dock."

Silver chuckled.

"Well, I'll have ta remember not ta do t'at in future." Silver ruffled Jim's hair and winked. "What say you we take a bit o' a ride now? We can park th' wee craft on a different dock when we get back." Jim nodded enthusiastically and ran outside. He was sitting in the skiff, ready to go, when Silver stumped down the dock.

"Yer too fast fer me, Jimbo." he clambered into the boat and turned to Jim. He smiled, a soft look on his face, golden eye sparkling.

"I have somethin' for ya, lad." Silver fished in his coat pocket for a moment, pulling out Morph, a compass, and a pouch of coins. "Ah, 'ere we go." He handed Jim a small box, and looked at him expectantly. Jim opened the box carefully and pulled out the object inside. It was a black silken cord strung through a small silvery pendant. The pendant was a small circle, with a tiny blue-gray stone set in the center. 

"It's a present fer ye, wee pup, in case I wander off on accident." Silver grinned in an embarrassed way, indicating a silver stud in his ear, set with the same stone. "It's a bit o' a trackin' device. If I mosey off and ya need ta locate me, spin the center-" he spun his earring and it lit up faintly, "Think about me real focused-like, and ye should be able ta find me wit’out a hitch." Jim spun the center of the necklace, and it started to glow. He then thought of Silver, remembering all the good times aboard the _Legacy_. The stone glowed brighter and a little beam of white light stretched from it towards Silver's earring.

"It works th' other way around, too." Silver grinned. "So don't ye dare try and hide from me when it's yer turn ta wash." Jim laughed, and Silver ruffled his hair affectionately.

"Now ye don' have to worry about losin' me again." He paused and cleared his throat. "It's real good ta see yer face, Jimbo. I missed ya too much." Jim threw himself at the big man, hugging him fiercely.

"I missed you more, you old scallawag!" he laughed.

"Oh, I don' know about tha-" Silver began, but Jim had already let go and grabbed the controls. They shot forward in a burst of speed and Silver was nearly thrown back off his seat. Recovering, he chuckled in a winded sort of way and settled his arm in front of the sail, holding onto his hat with his other hand.

Jim looked at the man next to him and grinned. He swerved the skiff and the arm resting behind him slid gently onto his shoulders. Smiling, Silver merely adjusted his arm a bit and kept holding onto his hat.

Jim whooped as the wind rushed by them. With Silver next to him, he felt like he could beat anything that tried to hold him down. The world was at his fingertips.

After a while, he reluctantly turned the boat back toward the Inn. He felt a tiny twinge of disappointment as they tied up the skiff and went back into the building, Silver to planning and Jim to the kitchens, but as he started washing the dishes, a smile crept onto his face.

He knew that this day with Silver was only the first. There would be many more.

 


End file.
